


Cognatio Repairo

by Exaigon



Series: Frater [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Graphic Description, It Gets Worse, Politics, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaigon/pseuds/Exaigon
Summary: Daniel is finally in their grasp but politics slows for no being and there's something more sinister pulling strings in the background. The Lost Boys are going to have one bloody hard time keeping the pack together.
Series: Frater [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1100355
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51





	1. Expositio

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm alive! And yes, I still completely intend to continue and finish this trilogy series. I just got lost on the road of life, fell over the railing into the void ocean (called depression), and eventually swam my way back to give you guys the beginning of this lovely story. Yes, I have thought about my other stories in case you were wondering and, no, my muse absolutely did not want to work on them (the utter bitch) but I will get back to them eventually.
> 
> Now, as for this story, it's probably gonna be gory and dark and is there a tag where it only gets worse? Oh, look there is. Now, I'm still teetering between how I'm going to end this and, honestly, I might end up with two endings or... I could even do some omake's with the darker options. Hm. Still deciding. Now let's give some happy juice to our boys followed by a heaping pile of angst. Sound good? Cool.

_There were waves pounding the shore, echoing and loud. Comforting._

_A murmur of laughs resounded in the background. Warm._

_The ottoman was hard but softer than anything he’d ever known. Home._

* * *

Sam frowned at the sleeping teen on the couch. Time had dragged on, it had been over a week now and there was still no sign of his waking. They could all feel the thirst starting to gnaw on the bond between them but Daniel himself showed no signs of even shifting. It was very disconcerting and it didn’t help that the worry the pack felt was almost multiplied by ten times by the time it got to him. Dwayne was near frothing in anxiety, David - normally strong, sure, and steady- was wavering between murderous rage and brooding distress, Marko had gone practically silent which was terrifying by itself, Paul was constantly high again and dangerously close to hurting himself with overdose, and Michael was frantically trying to run interference and cause distractions to try to make things better. 

Sam was practically drowning in their powerful emotions. So instead he chose to sit himself by the void that was Daniel. Except he wasn’t truly a void. There was something there. A niggling feeling that he’d tried digging for but it would only slip between his fingers like grains of sand. Which was honestly entirely frustrating considering he was one of three with the closest bond to the boy now and his only talent as a vampire was parsing out emotions. It worked better the closer he was to them but he could pick up on people outside of his pack. Supposedly, according to Sanguini, that was a miracle for their subspecies of Vamp. 

The Unholy, as they were classified in the magical world, didn’t get _gifts_ per se. They all had the same talents, just some were better than others; like David who was considered a master of the mind arts or Marko who had a nose so sensitive he could actually be hired for Hunts (and wow, that was a whole nother revelation they got after involving themselves in the actual politicking back in the U.S. when they had first found the magical world). No, the gifted ones were another form of muggle Vamp -which had been a surprise how many subspecies of vampires there were -Unholy, Fae, Shark, Lich, and Cursed- so he was a bit of an outlier but it helped his brothers and sire deal with strangers and weeding out their true intentions so he didn’t complain about it too often. He was only lucky that the instinctual hunt mentality usually drowned out his prey’s terror.

Still as much as his gift, or curse depending on the situation honestly, of empathy had helped them immensely, it was not helping now. With the state his new brother was in he couldn’t exactly go digging either. Or… maybe he could? Nobody had tried it for fear they would make things worse but Sam was the best qualified for this!

Yes, that was a great idea! And if this succeeded he could rub it in Paul’s face that his _leftover humanity_ had come in handy again. That blonde wingnut could be so annoying with his teasing sometimes. You’d think the older vamp would eventually stop stealing his comics but, of course not. Idiot! As if Sam could ever lose to that gorgeous moron… Wait. Nope. Thought was wiped from his mind.

Back on track! He needed to summon David for permission. And probably Dwayne too so the Native American didn’t try for payback in case anything went wrong. Going after Paul and Marko and Michael was one thing. Dwayne was quite another. He didn’t need that sadism after his awesome hide thank you very much.

_Uh, guys! I think I have an idea but... um. We might need to discuss it before I try it._

_Sounds promising,_ Michael snarked immediately.

Marko snorted but quickly followed with, _Sorry shortstack, we’re out on the hunt right now to track down some more vită. Sanguini requested specific stock._

 _David and Paul are further out, but I’ll come back right now,_ Dwayne pitched in. Sam could feel the tiny sputtering of hope still blanketed in misery and anxiety.

 _Gotta ask David too,_ Sam grumbled. It was a pretty great idea. It was just unfortunate he didn’t think of it earlier when the guys were still hanging around like panicking hens. It was probably their own panic muddling his thoughts. Damn bird brains.

 _You’re not very quiet you know,_ Marko snickered.

_Wasn’t trying to be, you pigeon obsessed chicken!_

He got a few snorts for that one. Good. If they could still laugh then maybe some of their spark would come back and they could all quit drowning him in woe.

* * *

_WRONG._

_He screams but his voice is only sucked away. He cries but his tears are turned to ice on his cheeks freezing his smile into place._

_He hated hated hated hated-_

_His friends were the best!_

* * *

Dwayne mulled over the plan Sam had laid out for him as he ran his fingers through Daniel’s rough hair. It was unfortunate that the malnutrition from his childhood had continued and practically killed his hair. It was much softer now than when they’d first picked him up in that hotel room, half turning having done wonders for his body, but he wasn’t quite completely there yet.

“So, what happens if you dive through the bond and get stuck. We have no idea what state his mind is in and you’ve never attempted anything like this before.”

Their youngest looking member pursed his lips. “Better than the nothing we’re doing right now.”

Dwayne frowned. “Sam. You’ve never been into someone else’s mind. Not like David has-”

“You’re right!” And there was a fire in those blue eyes, burning even brighter than before. “You’re right. I haven’t been but David has! I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that. I might be able to track down that slippery feeling if David acts as my anchor, you know? So I don’t get swept up in that vast nothing? That sounds great, right?”

The taller vampire had to take a moment to drink in his younger brother’s features. They were hopeful and still much too young looking -considering he was turned at fourteen that wasn’t surprising but still- for his liking. He and Sam had never been as close as the others. He’d been much too focused on finding Daniel so he’d let the bonds of their two newest fall to the wayside. His brother looked so earnest though and if he poked the bond a little he could the overwhelming need to help, to fix things, to please the pack. Dwayne sighed.

He felt like an asshole.

“Alright, Sammy,” the kids blue eyes brightened even further at the old nickname that no one but Mike used. “When David gets back we can discuss the particulars.”

He shoved a wave of reassurance over the bond and Sam practically sparkled in joy.

* * *

_The soft drone of a story._

_Cooing, soft feathers._

_Thick smoke._

_Familiar._

* * *

David chewed lightly on the filter of his cigarette as he thought over his childe’s idea. It was one he’d already played with himself but with no response to any previous prodding, he decided trying to find Daniel in his own head would be too dangerous. But Sam swore he could feel something. If David could hold them both through the process, Daniel could be found. It was very tempting.

David knew he was a possessive bastard; always had been even as a human. What he wanted, he got and he hoarded it viciously. His boys were part of that, even Daniel as lost as he was. So, yes, the idea was very _very_ tempting. The unknown aspect of it was terrifying, though. He’d never gone that deep into a psyche ever since the first time he’d experimented as a newborn and drove his meal insane. Max had warned him from that path, told him he could get stuck if he were in there when the person broke. It’d happened a vampire his maker had known before. The thought of being trapped like that had pushed him to become the ‘master’ of the mind arts that he was considered today. And now here he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. To push the limits or lose the brother they’d been tracking for ten long fucking years. 

“Shit,” he grumbled as he chomped too hard on the cancer stick between his teeth and ripped it. He wasn’t addicted per se, but it was a soothing habit he’d picked up sometime in the 20’s and David hadn’t exactly realized how much he’d gotten used to it until they became guests in Sanguini’s haunt. Fucking politics were ridiculous and his pack had lucked out finding one of the rare tolerant Lich’s. The rest were just aggrandizing pompous racial dickwads that needed to pull their heads from their asses. There was a pretty solid hierarchy in magical America and yea, there were some flaws but at least they weren’t blatant with their superiority complexes. It was starting to grind his gears in very unpleasant ways, especially now since they’d technically achieved the task they came here to do. Unfortunately, the longer Daniel was out, the closer the vultures swooped.

Sanguini had warned him that his childe was special. Special enough to throw the Lich court into disorder because they weren’t supposed to have _magic_. Lich’s lost their magic upon turning. Sure, the magic gave them boosters and sometimes gifts if they specialized in something while they were alive, but they lost the rest of it. But not Daniel. The whole pack could clearly feel the thrum of the boy’s magic in the back of their heads and it was an almost palpable sugary taste when anyone walked into the guest quarters. So now, not only did he have those roasted chicken members and wizarding jesus on his ass, he also had the European courts clamoring to see his childe.

Sometimes, he wished Max was still alive so he could take care of all this bullshit. David had a silver tongue and he could wade through politicians if he needed to but he didn’t thrive on it like the old roman vampire did. Fuck, his maker had been terrifying when he was bored enough to involve himself in any government functions; whole towns eating out of the palms of his hands and lovingly offering themselves on platters. It was just unfortunate that Max had settled on the idea of ‘family’ so obsessively in the recent century almost killing his entire coven multiple times in the process. It was a risk with older vampires. They either lost their marbles entirely or became so focused on something it became their downfall. An unfortunate tick of the _muggle_ subclasses of vamps. They didn’t have magic to bolster their minds when they turned and slowly lost it over the centuries.

Dammit he missed his maker! They might have been snubbing him for his stupid ideas but he’d taken care of the Lost Boys, took them in when they were wandering through the fog of life…

David let out a sharp breath from his nose when he felt Dwayne tug at him questioningly. He was letting himself get worked up again. This was becoming a much more common occurrence and it was dangerous; _he_ was dangerous when he lost his head.

 _I’m on my way back,_ he muttered shoving the ruined cigarette behind his ear. _And we’ve got some work to do._

David was possessive and he wasn’t about to let one of his boys, _his_ childe now even if he was sharing with Dwayne, suffer more than they had too.

* * *

_He danced the tune he was given, spinning around and around like a boneless marionette._

_His magic screamed and screamed, howling behind the lattice of its cage._

_At least he knew what was expected of him, though._

* * *

Michael frowned as Sam gently took Daniel’s head into his lap. He remembered the little kid on the ottoman that had folded his clothes for him. He’d been young and Michael hadn’t liked the implications. Now he was much older and Michael still didn’t like the happenings surrounding the boy. David and Sam were going to do something, probably, incredibly stupid just to see if they could wake him up. Not that he didn’t want his newest brother awake and laughing with them, but it was putting two others at risk.

The brunette chewed on his lip as David settled behind Sam, body practically draping over their smallest member so he could settle his hands over Sam’s on Daniel’s temples.

 _Chillax Mikey,_ Marko drawled.

 _Like you’re any better_ , he shot back half heartedly still focusing on the three settled on the couch.

_At least I’m not projecting hard enough to give Sam a headache. We gotta send support, bro._

He knew that. He _knew_ that. But it was still so hard. Sammy was his brother in life and undeath and he was putting himself at risk. Michael was supposed to be the one putting himself in harm’s way, well… as much harm as this _might_ cause anyway. They weren’t sure what the consequences would be. He might have felt a little better if Sanguini were here. Not that he trusted the older vamp but at least he had a certain specialty to do with bonds. He’d probably be able to help out more than any of the rest of them could. Possibly.

Urgh! The unknown aspect was killing him! He wasn’t stupid but the more academic pursuits were definitely not his forte. Give him something he could accomplish with his hands and it would all be peachy keen, not this waiting bullshit.

If there were ever a time he wished for his weights back now would be it. Not that it would do much for his physique. He was already one of the most physically strong -sometimes Dwayne beat him out, they were pretty tied on spars at the moment- and life as an undead left you pretty unchanged. You got what you got basically, though some skills like mesmers and illusions could be worked on. David was practically a beast when it came to the mind arts and he’d had the natural talent. Mike didn’t have that (he actually sucked, though, he could smash through barriers with some effort), he only had muscles like the jock he pretty much had always been. Still, his weights had been a comfort, something to take his mind off of troubles that he had no way to fix.

_I need to go out. I can’t sit here doing nothing._

Dwayne glanced at him and nodded. _Find Paul, would you? Make sure he’s not draining our host’s resources._

He nodded and shuffled around the couch trying to stop staring. Marko kicked his ankle from his spot on the floor, flat on his back. Fucking gremlin. He shot his curly haired brother a weak glare before walking out of the room in search of Paul who had decided to wander instead of being useless in the guest room. Maybe Michael should have done that too? It certainly wouldn't have harmed him any. Probably would have been better for his fraying sanity and quelling the protective urge bubbling beneath his skin.

It only took a few minutes to actually track down Paul, who ended up being in the foyer; a large chamber of smoothly cut stone with several hallways leading every which way. The blonde rocker was sprawled across one of the luxurious white couches staring at the roughly hewn ceiling, shoes on the floor and feet bopping to a beat only the other could hear.

“Paul.”

Blue eyes glanced at him in acknowledgment before returning to the ceiling. The brunette frowned up at it wondering what his brother found so fascinating. He wasn’t high, thankfully, Michael would have smelled it if he were, and Paul hadn’t been truly high for almost five years now until just recently and that was more self destructive behavior than true enjoyment like before. He still sold what he could make, keeping the cash flow incoming from druggies, but he never went on trips like he used too.

Not that many of the boys were anything like they used to be. They tried but it was hard to keep the levity and carefree attitude when they had to learn to slog through the higher echelons instead of just protecting their territory. And, ugh, poor Santa Carla was probably infested by now. They’d have one hell of a fight when they got back but at least then Michael could be of more use.

_Why you always gotta be useful, Mikey? You and Sammy both feel that urge…_

He frowned in contemplation. That was a good question. Yea, it was nice if you had a use but you didn’t particularly need one. If you were pack, you were pack. It’s just… his induction had come at the cost of David’s sire and coming into a world where there were vampires older than the bible and with so many useful skills. Sometimes he felt… envious, perhaps?

_Dunno. Know I’m here to stay but… And Sammy, he’s always been like that. A fixer. Maybe… some human trauma still lingering._

Thoughts of his dad popped up and despite the dissonance to the emotions in the memories he could still see how he’d been the protector. 

Paul turned his head to stare at him. “You feel inadequate.”

“I didn't even know you knew words like that.”

“Fuck off.”

There was silence and Michael turned to stare up at the ceiling as he sat himself down in front of the couch. His head dropped backwards leaning on Paul’s stomach as his brother hummed a small ditty to himself, his feet bobbing against the cushions. 

It was nice.

“You know, Mikey… I wasn’t sure about bringing you and Sam in. It was Max’s idea to get at your mom. He’d tried it before with others too. Multiple times. The last one, I got pulled into a territory war when Max went after a marked human. I wasn’t even supposed to be there but I’d gotten into another fight with my family and I was just wandering. Ended up catching Max’s attention when I, still high on some weed, managed to take out two of the opposing vamps. They got some good hits on me too. Was almost dead when Max forced his wrist in my mouth. A gift for helping he’d said.”

Michael blinked at the story. He knew Max had been rather obsessed over the family thing but this was the first he’d heard about anything other than his own induction. Marko always avoided that topic like the plague, Paul was normally too high or too busy, Dwayne had just silently stared at him, and David… he hadn’t even thought to ask. They’d all been so focused on Daniel for a decade, as well, it had just never come up.

“I ended up going home and eating my mother and sister on accident. I was so high strung after the fight, wasn’t really processing anything besides the hunger and the music on the record player. The boys came and picked me up within the hour and we were fleeing to Santa Carla before the rival pack dusted us. They hounded us all the way to the state line where we almost got roasted because the sun was coming out… I never really got on with my mother. She was a proper lady, widowed, and I was always an odd duck. Took to drugs like they were candy too which pissed her off. And my sister, well, I think I loved her but nothing like you did Sam while you were still human. So it was easy to transition. The loss bled away easy. 

But I didn’t have any natural talent to focus on like Marko’s nose and Davie’s head games. I thought Dwayne was more like me but he was strong and smart. So I was alone even though I wasn’t. They were there for me but I didn’t really let them in for another five or six years when I found out that drugs could bring in money. We didn’t have to rely on Max that way. We could be more independent-”

“Paul, where you going with this?”

The rocker snorted. “Impatient, Mikey. But I guess I wanna say I can sort of relate. It took me a while to find my niche, you know? And that was when we weren’t so focused on hunting something. We haven’t had a chance to really settle and it’s been eating at you and the squirt.”

Michael hummed. “You know, you’re a lot more insightful than I thought you could be.”

Paul laughed loudly, his sides bouncing against Michael’s head. “I’m sort of the underdog, don’t ya know? Everyone thinks it’s Marko cause he’s so short and cute but when you really look at the group who’s the last one you focus on?”

Immediately, Paul came to mind. The bastard was right, the other three were much more striking in their own special ways. It made him wince to think about.

“Nah, don’t be like that,” Paul laughed again. “I’m only the underdog from outside. I think you’re focusing on how we can see you, man. Not on how we actually see you. You’re pack. You’re always going to be pack. It doesn’t matter how useful you are -but let me say as a frontline fighter you’re damn good- you aren’t going anywhere. We belong to you just as much as you belong to us.”

Something in his chest loosened just hearing those words. Baby blues closed in something close to contentment as Michael just focused on the contact he had with his packmate. Even with all that hairspray the blonde still managed to be insightful.

_Oi. I take offence. My hair is naturally this amazing._

There was a vague snort followed by Marko’s disbelief. _If a flame even touches a single hair on your head the whole thing will ignite. Then we’ll have roast Paul at Sunday dinner._

That startled Michael into a laugh. _How’s everything going over there?_

David and Sam had been radio silence for a while now actually.

_Still kicking it. The triad have yet to move a muscle and Dwayne’s Intensity has ratcheted up several levels. Hey, Mikey. One of us. It means something so don’t go get stupid ideas in your head. We already had to deal with that before and Paul was such an ass about it._

_Oh, sit and spin you little rotter!_

_Depends what I’m sitting on~!_

Michael huffed at their bickering, a pleased smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Ok so, maybe his thoughts were getting a little maudlin. Didn’t mean he still wasn’t worried about both of his little brothers. Except now he had other stuff he could focus on too, like annoying Paul and Marko and trying to dig Marko’s backstory out of the trash where it still belonged.

* * *

_It was warm going down his throat. It curled in his chest and he could feel an immediate connection._

_He had family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think so far?
> 
> We're seeing a bit more of the politics and some worldbuilding that we didn't get into last time. This is going to be a lot more heavily focused on the boys this time around too which I'm sure ya'll are going to get a kick out of. I did also have a landslide of votes for Harry to choose the bloody hallway because you want to see them reunited so yay... Harry will be Daniel again! Though, that's going to come with it's own issues mwehehehehe...  
> Any critiques? Comments? Even your one word encouragements give me life and happiness.


	2. Pugna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Sam take a risky dive into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Number 2 all out and ready. I'm so proud of myself lmao. Anyway, thank you so very very much to everyone who left kudos and all my love to those of you to took the time to leave a review of any length (but especially the long reviews because they warm my heart to bursting)! Now, enjoy!

Harry tried, he really did. But with his magic screaming at him and the chains subtly tugging, both wanting him to go in opposite directions, he sat in place and cried without tears. He cried and screamed and howled just wanting it all to stop, unable to choose between a barely remembered past and his friends in the present. 

A soft tug against his being made him pause; silence falling over him in an eerie blanket. The hallways were still the same but it almost felt like someone was there with him. That he wasn’t alone.

His heart skipped a beat.

No.

No, he didn’t want this.

_Not again_.

He couldn’t choose but _he was always forced too_.

_HE DIDN’T WANT THIS_.

Abruptly, his magic lashed around him, smashing into the stone walls. Stone went spraying in all directions as the energy gathered everything around it that it could into a vortex around it’s wielder. Inside the eye, Harry started dry heaving, tucking his face into his knees.

Every time he thought he’d gotten free, he’d end up here, frozen between pathways. He loved his friends and couldn’t leave them to their fates. They bound him to _its_ will because they were Harry’s. And yet the rest of him longed to go back. Go back to where? He didn’t know but his magic yearned and his chest ached with emptiness.

And so he was stuck, always and forever frozen in between. Then _it_ would come and force its shackles upon his being and his magic would explode violently trying to overpower the bars of the cage as it closed in on him. It never worked. Once the cage was locked, the irons secured, and his memories once again fading, his magic would thrash violently over and over and over catching Harry in its terrified raging. 

It was violent and painful beyond words.

**_He didn’t want to go through that again._ **

So he huddled and focused his thoughts. He wanted to cause _it_ pain. He wanted _it_ to _suffer_ as he _ejected it from his mind_ because Harry would not survive again. Not as tattered and ragged as he was, his mental body barely holding itself together even now.

He gathered the wild roaring beast around him, creating tighter and tighter lines not caring about the small scrapes from the stone and other materials his magic had picked up from his mind. It started bucking under his control, ready to lash out, but he grasped it firmly; waiting.

* * *

Sam felt David surround him again, that smoke that drifted against his mind, but this time there were little latches. Where their hands rested, David’s larger ones almost completely engulfing his own, they seemed almost inseparable. He’d felt this before, of course, when his Sire was first getting him and Michael used to the pack bond. For his brother it was different, David was not his Sire and did not have nearly the control he could exert over Sam but he was still Head Vampire of their little coven and so could piggyback on any of the boys. Just with him, David could _control_ as well. Instead of the voices in his head, David was another person in his body. A very strange feeling he could easily admit and, perhaps, if he’d had a Sire like Max Sam might feel more discomfited of it but he didn’t. 

David was safe and he didn’t try to control his pack through fear. Honestly, he didn’t really try to control his pack much at all unless it was important. Maybe that’s why he felt okay doing this extremely risky procedure. David, for all his Alpha energy, protected what was his and would do so by going above and beyond normal standards if necessary. Like tracking Daniel down to another country and wrestling him from wizarding control.

Speaking of…

_Are you ready?_

_Of course,_ Sam scoffed.

_Sam._

He mentally recoiled and submitted at the solemnity of his name being whispered into his head.

_We must be fully focused. We know nothing about this. If there’s even the slightest error, we don’t know what will happen._ **_Focus._ **

Sam grit his teeth and nodded. He knew that. They were going to do this. 

The sudden tugging feeling almost knocked his concentration off right from the bat. If he could have, Sam would have gagged at the feeling of being lurched from his own body. Is this what David felt when he-

**_Focus._ **

The word echoed and Sam mentally shook himself. He needed to find that feeling, the wriggling worm that brushed his senses but slipped away before he could catch it. It was Daniel. He knew it was.

Expanding his ‘senses’, he reached out through the physical connection he had to the boy. It was there dancing in the back of his mind. David was aware of it now too and with a vengeance he dived after it. Sam was dragged along with a mental yelp, as he concentrated on keeping his empathic abilities expanded to the max. It was draining, much more so than he’d thought it would be but he forced himself to continue as his Sire dragged them both deeper into the psyche of their packmate.

It could have been minutes or hours or even seconds but suddenly they both stopped abruptly. With a great woosh they tumbled to the ground, sweet grass tickling their arms and legs. With a grunt, David pulled himself up, yanking Sam up as well by a hand on his shoulder.

“What the hell just happened,” he panted, trying to catch his bearings. Were they suddenly outside?

“We found his mindscape.”

“Mind what?”

Blue eyes glanced at him before returning to taking in the scenery. “A mindscape is a place in a person’s mind where everything is stored. The subconscious and the conscious all in one place. Most minds aren’t nearly so organized to be an actual place, though. Must be a magical thing.”

Well, that was somewhat helpful. “So, we are actually in Daniel’s mind?”

“Can you feel him, Sam? He’s everywhere and nowhere. This is the closest I’ve been to him since the turning…”

David’s voice was soft but his eyes were hard and his claws were digging into Sam’s metaphysical shoulder.

“Hey man! Ouch! Ugh, why does this still hurt?”

His Sire’s hand relaxed a tad, claws retreating in silent apology.

“Because we represent our very selves in here. If we get hurt here… it’s either going to affect us physically, or worse, do something to our mental state.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Language.”

“Really, pops?”

“Don’t even start you little rat.”

* * *

David wouldn’t admit it but he was afraid. Practically terrified. What they were doing could have so many severe consequences it wasn’t even funny. 

When Sam had explained his idea, he had felt a nasty stirring in his gut but he’d ignored it because he was getting a bit desperate. They couldn’t leave if Daniel was still asleep because Sanguini had access to so many more resources than they did, even if David was loathe to use more favors than he already had. On the other hand, the Vampire Lord may be tolerant but eventually the man would run out of patience and kick them out which could spell disaster if the pack wasn't ready to defend itself from all fronts. Or Sanguini could call in their favors for something they wouldn’t be able to provide at the moment.

With Daniel out of commission it was dragging the rest of the group down with anxiety, worry, and stress.

Bantering with Sam was only the smallest reprieve, like a tiny breath of air before you drown. Not nearly enough but still just enough to hope for another breath. Not like that was the best metaphor considering they didn’t have to breathe technically, but whatever.

“So, can you feel what you did earlier? I’m completely useless here. You’re the guide now.”

Sam swallowed and closed his eyes (and questions about this strange experience kept adding up but he shoved them down) before slowly lifting a hand to point. It led to nowhere, just more grassy plains.

He trusted his childe’s senses though and stepped forward, keeping his hand on the younger vampire’s shoulder. If they lost contact he had no idea what would happen.

“Uh, David?”

“What?”

“I have to keep my eyes closed,” Sam admitted quietly. “Something about the area is distracting so you’ll have to make sure I don’t drop into a pit or something.”

David grunted in acknowledgment.

They moved forward slowly, Sam pausing every now and then and changing directions. It was quiet even though the grass moved in an invisible wind. Actually, it reminded him very uncomfortably about the muffling quality Daniel’s magic had taken before.

Was the boy’s magic interfering here as well?

David shook himself from his thoughts when the grass abruptly gave way to a lake and a castle standing tall in the distance.

“Well, then,” he murmured thoughtfully. “This must be Hogwarts.”

“It’s a prison.”

He glanced down in confusion. “What?”

Sam hummed. “I don’t know what you see but it’s a prison. There’s so many negative feelings layered over empty space then more emotions then… It’s so weird. But definitely meant to keep something in.” 

The blond frowned. An illusion then. Could he break it? Should he?

“I think there’s a way in? It’s where his emotions are leaking out, at least. No wonder I can hardly feel it under this mess. So defeated… it almost blends right in.”

He could feel himself snarl as Sam kept muttering and started walking again, right over the water of the lake like it wasn’t there. That… was interesting. It wasn’t that they were flying. The water just felt like solid ground even as it splashed around their feet. Should he close his eyes as well? Could he trust his own mind in here? He didn’t want to break anything important and he wasn’t familiar with Daniel like he was with his brothers and childe. And he’d never physically -metaphysically?- been in someone’s head before.

Sam hummed before taking one step to the left and two backwards and suddenly they were standing on a bridge leading into, what looked like, a courtyard. How that even happened, he had no clue. There was no zipping past the landscape or even stuff melting and reforming. They were there and then they were somewhere else. It was fucking trippy.

Another step forward and suddenly David could feel exactly what Sam had been speaking of. It was a nasty roiling mess of emotions layered on top of what felt suspiciously like bars. Then there were even more of that disgusting wriggling mass of negative energy suppressing _something_ inside of that lockup _._ If he could, he would hurl just at the feel of it. What the fuck kind of crazy built this crap? 

Wizard jesus briefly flashed through his thoughts and it made sense. With all the missing and jacked up memories that brunette had with the old bastard it would make sense. When they finally met in person, he would take great joy in eviscerating the man, shoving his own intestines down his throat, forcing his eyes up his ass to see his own bullshit-

“David, I need your help.”

He refocused, tearing his mind away from murderous thoughts with a great force of will. That- that was dangerous. 

With a growl he slapped away the physical hooks the cage had tried to shove through his flesh. Shit, if he’d come here himself he’d already be sucked in. 

“What is it?”

He had to shove his own twisted emotions aside as the more worked up he got, the more hooks that tried to latch into his skin. Sam, was a great focus. The thought of _his_ childe calmed him immensely.

With eyes still closed, the young vampire responded, “I need you to lend me strength. Can you do that?”

Could he? Sure. Should he? Better question.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sam continued, “Do you trust me to find Daniel?”

Fuck. He did. He just didn’t trust the entire situation happening right now.

“You know I do, Sam. Don’t get us all killed.”

David’s claws clamped back into the forever teen’s shoulder as he pushed his power through the contact as a funnel. The entire bridge exploded around them in a fantastic display of firepower. Then, they dropped alarmingly fast before jerking to a stop in a hallway practically oozing black syrupy blood, very disoriented.

“What the f-”

* * *

Sam was so drained. He had no idea what he was actually doing, none at all. Everything was just running on instinct now and that wasn’t always a good thing but he just _had_ to do this. Daniel was there. He could feel him so faintly; terrified, defeated, guilty, frustrated. All the negative emotions just feeding into the cage and making it stronger. He had to get them there and he had to do it _now_ . So, he’d asked his Sire for strength and, oh fuck, when it filled him it was almost rapturous. David was this powerful? Jesus _Christ!_

But he was on a mission. He couldn’t lose focus. So he threw all that power exactly where the leak was and watched it practically blow open a back door. Was that a good thing? Still up for debate but it got them inside. It got them the closest they’d been to getting Daniel back since they’d retrieved his physical body.

It also apparently tipped off Daniel because suddenly those emotions spiked, terror and rage eating all the others until they were the only two left fighting for dominance. That? Yea, that was not so good. And neither was the burgeoning energy he could sense reacting to Daniel’s emotions like an overeager hellhound.

“Sam, what the fuck is happening,” David demanded, claws digging painfully into his shoulder again.

He vaguely wondered if this mind body of his could bleed before asking, “What do you see happening?”

Because Sam could see the whirling torrent of emotional magic -it was more than likely his magic, what else could it be?- compress further and further until it looked like a rough suit of armor surrounding the one person they were looking for, crouched in front of them.

“I’m seeing the fucking castle disintegrate into a typhoon!”

“Sounds about right,” Sam responded faintly.

David’s growl was barely heard over the whistling of the magical wind. “What’s happening!?”

Watching the magic settle even tighter was terrifying because he knew if it attacked them, they’d be dead. It was an overcompressed spring about to burst.

“Um, we found Daniel. And he’s absolutely terrified… and angry. Really angry.”

Because the angry part was important. Daniel, was in fact, very much past angry and was probably somewhere around destroy-everything-in-my-path apoplectic. Which the cage was quite happily feeding on. Uh, bad thing. Very bad thing.

“David, this cage is feeding on his negative energy to keep itself up. The longer he stays like this, the more it heals itself! If we don’t get him out soon we’ll be trapped in here with him and I’m too young and handsome to be a vegetable!”

“Sam, you need to get on my back and hang on. I don’t know what’ll happen if we get separated.”

He eagerly did just that, squeezing tightly against the murderous magic almost succeeding in ripping them apart. It wasn’t even actively trying either. It was just the small wisps, the vestiges of the storm that was bound to Daniel’s form. How strong was his new brother? Could it compare to the power David had? Was it even in the same category to be compared?

David started moving forward. Slowly, ever so slowly, he started to make progress and slowly, ever so fucking slowly, he started to gain ground faster. It was as if Daniel’s magic had stopped fighting them, had recognized their presence as friendly. Whether it was that or not, progress was gained and it was extremely helpful and relieving.

They both started to call out to the boy long before they could see him in the maelstrom. There was no response except animalistic screaming accompanied by powerful waves of rage that buffeted Sam’s mind so harshly that hot tears immediately formed and fell to his cheeks in waves that paralleled the pounding in his skull.

Still they called for him.

Neither of them were expecting the sudden drop in temperature and mood. It was like after all that fight Daniel had given up again. That was not a good sign. Sam had spent a few years closer to the end of the decade long rescue (when they were so close but with much less to do search wise) reading some psychology books because emotions and psychology were pretty well linked. And well, he wasn’t a doctor or an expert but the fluxing of emotion that Daniel was suffering through was sure to leave some mental scars. Not to mention he’d have to keep a close eye on his new brother for a while so he didn’t spiral into depression or suffer a psychotic break. He’d never actually seen one but he was sure they weren’t pretty. And as a vampire with extremely skewed morals already, the result could be much _much_ worse. It was practically a miracle their little wizard brother hadn’t suffered one yet with all the strain he was under.

And then they were right there, David’s arms catching the green eyed halfling as he pitched forward, eyes shuttering in exhaustion.

\----

_Daniel..._

Harry stood and screamed his rage to the heavens, searching for the source of the intrusion. He wouldn’t go down without a fight!

_Daniel…_

That old bastard could choke on its beard! He would not submit! He would not be controlled!

_Little brother…_

**_Little brother…_ **

The wizard heaved a great breath as the ringing in his ears increased in pitch.

**_DANIEL_ **

“LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

**LITTLE BROTHER**

“I WON’T LET YOU TRICK ME AGAIN! YOU CAN’T HAVE ME!”

_It was only a nightmare, little brother…_

“No,” Harry sobbed roughly, the fight draining from his tense frame.

_Hush, little one. You can cry if you need to…_

“No!”

_Daniel…_

“Stop it!” His magic whirled around him still, compressed and still raging even as he slumped, the irons on his wrists reaching for the floor. “You can’t use them against me!”

_How about… I read you a story?_

He knew wanted to know so badly! Why was it so familiar? Why did it hurt but bring such joy?

_Hey squirt…_

“Why…? Why?”

**_DANIEL_ **

He cried again but his eyes were dry. They always were. Crying solved nothing after all.

**LET US TAKE YOU HOME**

_Are you happy here?_

He was. He was so so happy but he didn’t know why. He was afraid to know why. The knowledge came at a cost.

_Do you want to be here forever? With us?_

**It’s time to come home, Daniel**

Harry crumpled, the ringing in his ears reaching a fever pitch, as strong arms carefully wrapped around him. It wasn’t the bastard, most certainly not. These arms were strong but cold, safe but dangerous, recognized but unfamiliar. His magic knew this person, saw them as safe, allowed them passage. Maybe he could finally be free?

**We promised forever after all**

“David…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? How are the characters? Did you have a favorite part? What do you think is going to happen?
> 
> Leave a review cause they're precious to me!


	3. Dejectus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of the courts and a possible fatal error?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I slowed down a little on my writing but I do still have a basic outline for this. I'm going to try to stick to every two weeks! (We'll see how long it lasts.) But, as with all of my stories, even if I'm not working on it, I will not abandon it unless I explicitly say so (and even then I might get back to it eventually...). Aha! Back to the story! I do so hope you enjoy ;)

Dwayne stared, his eyes never moving from the trio on the couch. He took in every detail, intensely focused on any minute changes. At one point David had started noticeably pouring energy into Sam and then Daniel’s magic was whirling about the room washing over himself and Marko several times, presumably, ascertaining their hostility. It was probably a good thing Michael had left earlier, even if he had found Paul in a rare introspective mood, because while they were pack Daniel hadn’t known Michael like he’d known the original Lost Boys. There was no telling what the newly turned (again) halfling’s magic would have done.

Still none of them had woken, hadn’t even moved a millimeter, even after Daniel’s magic had settled. It was… worrying.

_ Man, I remember the days we just went out and played games. This is bullshit, _ Marko sighed, thumping his head on the ground repeatedly.

_ Watch it, _ Dwayne snapped.

_ See, that. That right there! I miss the little dude too, okay? But we’ve turned into a bunch of melodramatic pussies. Even Paul is falling back into old habits and we worked hard to get him out of that. _

_ And what exactly do you suggest we do? Go out and play? _

_ YES! Something! Anything! Even the hunt for Daniel was more lively than this! Fuck, this tension is killing me! _

Dwayne sighed from his nose and painfully tore his eyes away from his brothers. He had just earlier been thinking he was neglecting bonds. Marko had a point no matter how vexed it made him to hear. It was surprising considering he wasn’t normally as intuitive unless it came to animals.

_ Hey! _

_ Don’t even deny it Marky babyyy, _ Paul sniggered halfheartedly _ , You’re sort of people dumb most times. _

_ I read that Grange girl just fine, didn’t I? _

_ Lucky guess, _ Michael threw in lazily.

Marko scoffed,  _ I’ll show you lucky you- _

_ Quiet!  _ Dwayne growled, stunning them all into silence. 

His dark eyes had caught movement and he turned back to the couch. David was twitching, his mouth pulling into a soft frown before his eyes reluctantly opened. 

_ Thanks for the chatter boys. Best cure for a migraine.  _ The words were practically snarled and dripping in sarcasm but it immediately lifted the somber air.

“What happened,” Dwayne asked, just as Sam groaned and forced his eyes open muttering about the light offending him.

“A lot.” David shifted carefully, putting his chin on Sam’s shoulder and moving his hands to caress Daniel’s cheeks. The boy’s eyelids fluttered and Dwayne sucked in an unnecessary breath.

He had forgotten how green his little brother’s eyes were. 

There seemed to be an emptiness in his gaze for a moment, and Dwayne’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the dull blank stare, before life seemed to pool into them slowly as Daniel glanced around blearily, stopping on David and Dwayne the longest before moving on, taking in the scenery.

Sam had slumped back into his Sire, posture exhausted, and his mumbling had stopped but he was still staring wearily down at the head of black locks in his lap, hands starting to stroke through the messy hair.

_ Shit! Is he awake!? _

And then Paul was hurrying, Michael right behind him, both stumbling into the room only seconds later. Marko was sitting up now, as well, a giant cheshire grin on his face. Everyone’s elation was bubbling between their bond strong enough that Sam started giggling drunkenly a moment later.

“Little man!”

Paul skipped forward until he was hanging over the couch, blue eyes glittering happily, and teeth gleaming in a wide smile.

Daniel jerked his head up at the endearment looking at Paul as if he were foreign for a moment. Then recognition dawned and Daniel opened his mouth.

Hearing him speak, Dwayne felt his unbeating heart drop straight into his stomach. 

Something was wrong.

* * *

**S** even grey thrones, hewn from granite and decorated upon their high backs with seven gleaming rubies representing the Kings, sat on a raised obsidian dais surrounded by multiple balconies upon which hung the somber colored banisters of the many Vampiric lords they represented. A long red carpet ran the walkway from the thrones to the large steel doors; a vibrant color in an otherwise drab meeting room. Torches lined the walls, above and below, setting the macabre atmosphere with flickering orange light.

Every time he entered this room, Sanguini couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Honestly, a nice cave or stone room didn’t always have to be so… so boring. It’s like the conclaves strove to live up to their stereotypes. Unfortunately it wasn’t even that interesting, they were just old codgers that couldn’t stand the thought of change most of the time. Which made this meeting with them, once again, superfluous. 

It wasn’t even a full assembly, with only two Kings and a handful of local lords and their entourages, because these summonings weren’t about anything too important (Well, perhaps if they knew Harry Potter was the Vampire he was helping to track they might take more interest but he’d like them to keep they’re overly long noses out of his business). The court just wanted to enforce their power over him by calling upon him at the most inopportune times. And it was starting to grate upon his patience.

Sanguini had quite a bit of forbearance -which was the unfortunate reason he was the hapless victim sent to chat with Eldred Worple about his very mistaken book… and fix  _ most _ of it which ended up working in his favor but, still- even then, his tolerance only lasted for so long. Normally, it wouldn’t be much of an issue -he did have centuries of dealing with this world’s politics, after all- but he also had an entire coven roosting in  _ his _ territory. He was quite fond of them and enjoyed their company  _ when he was there _ but having them unsupervised in his lair was like an ever present itch prickling under his skin. 

So, he was quite irritated to  _ once again _ be summoned for this  _ pointless _ charade. Not only that, they had been dragging out their parody of a court session for  _ three days  _ before finally getting to the point of calling him in front of the Kings. He had quite a bit of research to get back to, Daniel of the Lost Boys was still not waking, and he was terrified of the monster that could possibly be pulling the strings of who knows how much of the world right now. If he was any other vampire, he might have snapped already and given the ‘court’ exactly what they were after; more power over him by forcing submission when he showed ‘defiance’.

He couldn’t allow that. Sanguini was a High Lord of the Vampire Court only through his hard work and rare ability. He had many enemies, jealous and self-created, and not nearly enough allies as he’d like, although, enough to keep him where he was. He wasn’t about to lose his position because a bit of a temper snap. He’d stake himself first.

Dear, oh dear, those boys certainly brought him the most excitement he’d had in centuries, though. Perhaps it was getting to his head a little… Or mayhap he was just seeing a different way of doing things that worked well enough? They weren’t quite the same subspecies, but muggle classes were superior to them in their own special way (Pack hunting had certainly seemed to keep more of them alive than the Nosferatu -or Lich’s as they were so grossly referred to in this day and age- over the centuries). And they didn’t have nearly as much politics to wade through to get anything done. Hm. Maybe their own government was too steeped in tradition and they needed to trust their instincts more. Food for thought. 

The world is always changing and even the unchanging had to adapt or they would be left ashes in the sun. He should look into statistics on top of his other research to see if his thoughts had any merits. It would take much more proof and backing before he would even  _ think _ of presenting even an  _ idea _ of changes like he was ruminating. 

Oh well. If nothing else, Sanguini would live and the dusty has-beens would survive or die. Hopefully, die.

With those cheerful thoughts, and a slight smirk that could not be seen with his bowed head, Sanguini gracefully rose from his kneeling position to finally greet the Kings. After they’d made him kneel there for close to five minutes. They were truly trying to push him into something. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was they were trying to get from him.

“Sanguini, love, a pleasure as always,” King Elizabeth Bathory purred. Her fangs flashed hungrily at him and the Vampire Lord made sure not to move at all; he refused to be her prey.

Bathory was the youngest of the Kings, having killed the last one in a Challenge. She was also a well known historical figure that killed and tortured and bathed in the blood of her maids. And her appetite had yet to be sated. Once she set her eye on you it was best to get ready for the mindgames of the century… and possibly being drained so she could bathe in your blood if you were pretty enough. Thankfully, while Sanguini could certainly be called handsome, he wasn’t quite near her standards of beauty requirements. He’d been told by several people already ‘blessed with her time’ that it was quite unpleasant and left you starving for days no matter how much you gorged.

He smiled with no teeth, always careful not to offend, as he responded, “My King Havardr, King Elizabeth, what an honor to be seeing you again so soon.”

Elizabeth tittered at his carefully moderated tone, shifting slightly to lean forward and slowly fan herself with her hand. Her kirtle was beautifully hand crafted, a navy blue that cinched at her waist to show her plump curves and puffy sleeves with artfully crafted cuffs in a silver blue with embroidered small white dragons. An overcoat in a rich berry purple, was draped over her arms falling in sinuous lines to spread around her bare feet perched delicately on the cold stone. Her slight movement brought more attention to the tops of her breasts which Sanguini respectfully refused to look at. Despite Vampires being pleasure driven beings he had never been one to follow the more baser desires, and even if he had he most certainly wouldn’t do it with the ruthless King.

King Havardr Kirkson hummed, opening his beryl eyes, finally deigning to give Sanguini a response after an awkward minute of King Elizabeth practically panting at him like a bitch in heat (well, the much more conservative form of it anyway).

“Sanguini. The court has requested yet  _ another _ update,” he growled, disgruntled.

Havardr, it seemed, was tiring of this just as much as Sanguini himself. As Kings, they hold immense amounts of power in their circles, but the courts could request their own meetings and summonings as long as one King agreed and was in attendance. With Elizabeth having been in England and having a riot of a time pissing off Havardr, of course she would say yes. As the reigning King of the United Kingdom's Conclave, he wouldn’t let her sit court alone and try to supersede him so he was dragged along. Perhaps it was getting to the point Havardr would chase Elizabeth back to her own country?

“Of course, my King,” he agreed, tone much more affable. He much preferred Havardr and the King had seemed to take a slight liking to the High Vampire after he’d gotten to and held onto his position at such a young age. 

The King nodded his head briefly, settling back into his throne. His beryl eyes were still dark with irritation but his attention was focused on Sanguini now and it didn’t seem quite as severe. Focusing his attention right back on his King was a much better distraction than just trying to ignore the haughty eyes staring down at him from above.

As he started weaving a slightly altered story of events (Leaving out Daniel’s original name and a few other  _ key  _ factors), Sanguini took in Harvardr’s appearance, from the thickly built chest and arms to the high brow. The man was truly aesthetically pleasing. His dirty blonde hair was tied back in a thick plaited braid that hung over his shoulder to his chest, the sides were shaved bare to show two nordic ravens tattooed upon his skin. His beard was neatly trimmed only an inch from the skin -that was new, it used to be much longer- and it highlighted his high cut thick cheekbones rather nicely. His clothes were nothing new, the Vampire King wasn’t very ostentatious -though it rankled a few Lords the man did not seem to care- preferring to stick to simpler garb. Still, the plain cotton shirt hung in just the right way to show his broad shoulders and with the sleeves rolled up to the biceps it was quite easy to see the muscle shifting restlessly in his forearms as his fingers tapped upon throne’s arms. His pants were a brown leather, no doubt buttery soft from constant usage, that hung low on hips. A hint of skin could be seen peeking out from under the shirt every now and then as Havardr moved about in irritation.

“So, those boys are going to leave soon?” Elizabeth pouted, her gorgeous and voluminous chestnut locks spilling over her shoulders as she leaned forward even more. A pendant slipped from her kirtle, gleaming gold in the firelight. “I didn’t even get a chance to meet them.”

Mutters picked up around the room about finally having the vermin removed. Honestly, Vampires got so tiring sometimes. Very unoriginal. He knew they knew he could hear them but he most certainly wasn’t going to do anything about it in front of the Kings.

“Perhaps, King Elizabeth. I did offer my hospitality to them as long as they need it.”

“With their final member reunited there should be no  _ need _ for them to hang about like ruffians and bums,” she giggled.

Sanguini twitched. He still needed... “Actually, My King, I would like to seek a personal audience with you about this matter.”

This time the mutters were much louder and worst of all Havardr didn’t look too particularly interested. 

“The Lost Boys,” there were a few hostile snorts that he ignored, “as you know, are Unholy and had to tread into magical territory to find their brother. If it becomes an issue, they would like to have the Court’s backing in fighting the Wizards over their coven member.”

At the mention of getting one over on the Wizarding World, Havardr looked much more interested, thankfully. “Very well, your audience is granted in one week’s time. You will bring yourself and, at least, the Head of your little lost muggle coven.”

“What? You get to meet those tasty boys, but I don’t? Nonsense. You’ll meet us both,” King Elizabeth declared brightly. “After all, two Kings is better than one, hm? Don’t be late!”

Ah. How unfortunate. 

Havardr also looked extremely disgruntled that King Elizabeth had once again inserted herself in his ruling but did not dispute her command.

“It would be an absolute honor,” Sanguini drawled barely able to keep an even tone this time. He really didn’t want her to be nosing around in this no matter how much more political clout two Kings had over just one.

Damn her.

After being released from the Throne Room, he made his way quickly through the halls of the Royal Estate. Sitting under the remains of Minsden chapel -ironic really- the building was literally a castle that was constructed underground. It was connected to the sprawling network of caves and hand carved tunnels used by many night crawling or underground faring creatures. An extremely convenient way to avoid most wizards really. Only Friends to magical creatures and Beings or the dregs of society ever made their way down far enough to find this place and to muggles it was practically nonexistent with all the wards that had been added over the centuries.

He needed to get to those tunnels quickly before any of the other vampires caught up to him. Carmilla had been in attendance and she was one of his strongest allies but the others were either neutral or hostile. Hopefully, she’d be able to hold them all back long enough for him to escape.

But, of course, the universe would not be quite so kind to him. Already standing by the small side door (much preferable to the larger entryway that garnered more foot traffic) was Lord Faust Sitwell. He was a dour man that envied very easily and resented Sanguini his quick climb in the ranks. Not someone he would like to talk to at any venture. Unfortunately, he was positioned in such a way that he could not rush by without any pleasantries. 

The vampire sneered when Sanguini stopped, a half smile formed on his closed lips. “Lord Sitwell. How are you this fine evening?”

“As I ever am, High Lord. You seem to be in quite a hurry but perhaps,” he paused drawing the moment out longer than it needed to be, “you could spare a moment for a friendly request.”

“Oh, for another Lord of  _ high _ standing, I would be more than happy too.”

Sitwell’s sneer widened at the slight but he let it pass. “Wonderful. I am in need of a Hunter. Discreet, you see, and they are  _ difficult _ to obtain. I hear those little rats you have, might have a keen nose amongst them.”

Now where exactly had he heard that from? It wasn’t exactly a secret the talent the boys had but it wasn’t very well known either. He wasn’t even sure the Kings knew. Was Sitwell actually fraternising with Americans now? How very interesting. Also, what need has he of a Hunter without going through official channels? That was highly suspicious but… it would be a huge boon if he could use it to gain an alliance out of this.

“My little,” his smile faded a bit, voice dropping, “rats, as you say, have quite a few talents. The question being why they should assist you.”

He could, of course, leave the decision of his pack members doing anything up to David, like he probably should but it would make him seem weak to the Lord in front of him, as accepting someone’s hospitality without giving anything in return was seen as putting yourself into that person’s service. Though, it was quite useful if you are the host, it was an inconvenient tradition for the guests. For the length that he had hosted the Lost Boys they had accrued quite a large ‘debt’ so it would be easy to use that. That didn’t mean that Sanguini exactly wanted to use his favors this way. He very much liked the good relationship he had curried with them so far.

Sitwell watched him silently a few moments before responding quietly, as if what he was speaking of was a secret of great import, “There have been many signs, Sanguini. Very bad omens not seen in millenia. There is something I must find and I need a Hunter to obtain it as it is always on the move. For this you will have my backing in future endeavors.”

The High Lord blinked in shock. It must be extremely bad if Sitwell was being so very straightforward about this. What ever could-

Though he had not felt cold since his turning, Sanguini felt a prickling chill run up his spine at the sudden epiphany. If this had anything to do with  _ that _ …

“My Lord Sitwell, it seems we have many more things to discuss than I thought. Please, join me and be welcome in my home while we discuss this.”

Dark brows rose on the man’s grey face but he inclined his head, even dropping the sneer enough to seem slightly pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! What did you think? Point out a favorite part? Throw theories my way? Leave a comment (even a short one!) to tell me. :)


	4. Interludium Est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's check back in with some of the others, shall we?

Hermione huffed as she shoved the bed back into place over her poor attempts at scratched writing on the wooden floorboards. She could already see the light of the sun starting to shine in through the grimy windows and that meant it was time to play ‘avoidance’. Which basically meant she would fake sleep until she actually fell asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness, until after dark. Although probably not the best tactic she could use, considering her mind was always running a mile a minute, the brunette had discovered this was the easiest solution to avoiding Dumbledore whenever he came into try to talk to her.

She absolutely refused to talk to him while he had them (well, she assumed Ron and the twins were also in some form of isolated hell but-) locked up like petty criminals.

Not only that but she had a sneaking suspicion that had been steadily growing stronger since day two, that he was trying to form some kind of Stockholm Syndrome bond with her as the only person she was allowed to see during her ‘punishment for utter stupidity’. As if any adult in the Wizarding World had the right to call her stupid, not with how their collective mind had their heads shoved up their arses. And then there was Dumbledore, preacher of the ‘good’, shepherd of the mindless flock she had once been a part of. Not anymore, though. She’d cut herself away from him and slammed the door in his bonding attempt by utterly ignoring any drivel he’d start spouting. 

One thing Hermione had never thought she’d be grateful for was getting lost in her own head when processing large loads of information. It was a fantastic way to drone out his incessant attempts of placation, manipulation, and bribery. Honestly, as if she’d give her best friend over to the madman that had stolen him from a vampire coven. It was little wonder Harry’s magic would go haywire every year. 

With a huff, she turned and snatched up the food that appeared with a small pop, and gobbled it down as quickly as possible without making herself sick. Afterwards, she hopped in bed, throwing the blanket over her face and settled in for the long haul. She absolutely ignored her twisted joy, despair, and frustration when the old man walked in and sat himself down like he owned the place. Technically, it belonged to Harry now, not that Dumbledore had ever mentioned such a thing. She’d had to parse it out from his earlier attempts to speak to her and the common knowledge of Sirius and Harry’s relationship. Of course, Professor Lupin’s brief mention of Harry as Heir Black (which she hadn’t really thought on much at the time even though  _ she should have _ ) helped a lot as well.

And there went his voice, irritatingly buzzing in her ears again. Asking after Harry -as if she’d tell him-, trying to bribe her with more books -oh merlin, how she ached for an intellectual distraction from all the shit she was working through right now-, and, oh that was new, begging for her cooperation in returning their savior -he wasn’t  _ theirs _ and certainly owed nothing to the world that had only used and abused him-.

And then he was finally gone, and the pathetic little girl inside of her cried out for the lack of company but Hermione ruthlessly squashed it. She needed some sleep, at least…

Almost twelve hours later, the brunette witch dragged herself out of bed to sit in front of the plate of dinner on the floor. This time she ate much slower, allowing her groggy mind to wake up, not really processing the slightly burned flavors of the vegetables. Her nightmares had been a wild mix of possessive  _ mine, I miss you  _ and a wand pointed at her face stealing her precious knowledge. 

Finally done with her plate, she left it on the floor and stumbled to her feet to drag the bed away from the corner of the room again. Once it was sufficiently removed, she concentrated on her hand willing a bluebell flame to appear. It sputtered a few times before settling and that feeling of pride settled in her chest once more; wandless  _ and _ wordless. It had taken two days of intense practice after she was stuck the first day not able to go to sleep, her thoughts restlessly circling around and around in a never ending loop. But Hermione was nothing if not determined and with sod all to entertain her mind, she’d gone a little stir crazy. It was a good distraction to keep her from angrily pounding on the door at any rate; one a lot more useful as well.

She let it hover over her shoulder as she settled on the floor, legs crossed and hunched over the bottom of her theory chart. With a rusted nail she had yanked from the bed she focused on continuing her last train of thought.

She had determined, through her mind swap -and it was a swap, she wan’t stupid enough to believe he hadn’t gotten anything from their little exchange- with the curly headed vampire, that someone -most probably Dumbledore with all the evidence- was messing with her head. The most obvious bits were the blank spots in her memories she knew she shouldn’t have. While Hermione did not have eidetic memory she was bloody damned close. In total there was almost an entire year of scattered memories she was missing and all of them pertained to trying to help Harry get away from his relatives or looking for ‘forbidden’ knowledge. The less obvious bits, were the subtle thought changes at crucial moments that lead into Harry and Ron and her getting into some sort of trouble. Those… were the most insidious honestly. She couldn’t even trust her own head anymore. So, she took the avoidance route because the witch was terrified that if she so much as looked at the man she might lose something again.

She sat there all night, working through more and more of her tangled thoughts, reaching dead ends and frustratingly incomplete answers. She didn’t even notice the pain in her fingers or back.

* * *

Ron breathed in deeply before breathing back out slowly.

Breakfast had been another charred meal that only reminded him of the heavy cost of their excursion. He missed his siblings and his Mom. He’d been assured by Dumbledore that the twins had survived and were still healing but that had been at the cost of several chess games and practically begging to hear something before he threw himself out the window from grief. Then the old bastard finally capitulated. Utter dick.

In the beginning, Ron had taken the time to think about their mistakes, what they could have -should have- done better, and worrying over Harry to avoid thinking about the new lack of females in his immediate family. It hadn’t exactly been healthy but it was better than going stir crazy or destroying his room a second time. So, when Dumbledore came on the second day to talk to him it had been a sort of relief. The mess of shattered wood that had been his room was fixed and there was human company he could distract himself with. He wasn’t exactly fond or trusting of the man but he was better than nothing. 

Until the interrogations started. They were subtle but with all his previous ruminating and the blaring warnings in the back of his mind telling him to watch his words, Ron noticed a pattern start to form. Whenever Dumbledore used the words ‘my boy’ the redhead felt a stronger need to confess everything, and looking into his eyes was a glaring mistake as well. As a wizard-raised he’d known about legilimens before but he’d never really thought too much on it until the grief that was still particularly poignant was suddenly shoved aside in order to talk about Harry. He hadn’t even realized that fact until after the conversation.

The next session Ron was more guarded, focusing on his chess pieces and strategies, weighing Dumbledore’s words and double meanings. He wasn’t the smartest out there, he couldn’t parse out hidden meanings as well as his amazing girlfriend would be able to, but he was good at strategy and he had hours to sit and think of maneuvers.

After a week it was somewhat exhausting to always be focusing on something so intensely, he hadn’t done that since the grudge he’d had on Harry in fourth year and even then it wasn’t on his mind 24/7. It wouldn’t cost him unknown consequences.

The door clicked open and Ron blinked up at the Headmaster, a small smile forming on his face as he greeted him.

Dumbledore returned it pleasantly while he conjured a table with the chess set, the pieces muttering and raring for another fight.

“I believe you’re almost done with your Father’s punishment, my dear boy. Are you excited to see your family again?”

Oh, right. Dumbledore still expected him to believe his dad would be cruel enough to punish his kids with the isolation. Yea. No. Good try old man but still not working.

“Y-yea,” Ron hummed. “I think I want to see Fred and George first. Y-ou did say they were doing okay, right?”

Dumbledore smiled genially and the redhead focused on how one curve of the lip went up higher than the higher. A fairly noticeable smirk, really. Or was he just reading too much into it?

“Oh, yes. Yes. I dare say both of them should be up and running around pranking like normal in no time.”

He highly doubted that. Even Ron could see how devastated Fred had been at almost losing his twin. Maybe that twinkle that would always appear in the old man’s eyes was actually a sign of madness? Hm, possible.

“That’s good to hear,” he sighed. “What about Hermione?”

Because the last time he’d asked, Dumbledore practically waxed poetic about how concerned he was for the poor dear. It was particularly worrying that she refused to so much as look at the Headmaster, sleeping all day instead just to avoid him. What was she thinking? What had her brilliant mind cooked up? Was she feeling as trapped as he was? Merlin, he just wanted to hold her in his arms again just for the comfort of human touch. Like hell would he try to get his fix of contact from the old man.

“Ah.” The Headmaster’s shoulders drooped, mouth moulding into a soft frown. “Still sleeping, I’m afraid. I’m particularly worried about what happened between her and the vampire but until she comes to me there is not much I can do for her I’m afraid.”

Ah. Another of his mistakes when dealing with the man. In the beginning he had probably said more than he should have, telling a summary of what they had done just for the relief of getting it off his chest. Of course, that was also after a ‘my dear boy’ comment which Ron had berated himself over several times. He really needed to know how to word warfare better and faster than he currently was but as he could count it a win as long as no new information spilled from his lips.

“So, what’s going to happen then? Can I see her when I get out? After my brothers?”

“See her? My dear boy, she could be compromised and until I can ascertain she is not a threat to the Order she must stay away from important information.”

Ron almost choked at how blunt he was. But then the information actually processed. He wasn’t going to let her out? He was just going to leave her to rot until she did what he said? 

Fuck no. Not if Ron had anything to say about it. More things to strategize in his plentiful spare time.

* * *

Remus watched his leader settle down in the living room, the new meeting room since Arthur couldn’t stand to enter the kitchen anymore, with a forlorn sigh. The werewolf couldn’t help but purse his lips as the undercurrent of something rotten settled in his wake. It was quite distracting, not something he’d noticed before recently as the stench only grew stronger. Unfortunately, he’d yet to figure out exactly what it meant.

“How are the kids,” Arthur croaked, looking up from his hands with a bleary gaze. Remus swallowed harshly, avoiding the man’s gaze. His guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders and it had kept him from talking to the single father. Remus knew he should, it was his fault that he didn’t leave immediately, that he couldn’t protect Molly, but every time he even made a move to talk, his heart and stomach shriveled up into his throat.

“Ron is doing quite well. He asks after his brothers constantly and has not had a rage episode since the first one. He should be let out in a few days, give him just a little more time to grieve. As for Hermione… something's very wrong with the girl. I have yet to ascertain whether it is just grief or if the vampire’s were able to somehow influence her, but either way I do not think her ready to be among us. There is too much at stake now that any information ending up in the wrong hands could be extremely dangerous.”

Remus quite agreed that she shouldn’t be allowed around important information but… did that mean she had to be so very alone? He could keep her company, at least. Being on one’s own was never easy after all. But he could not force the offer past his lips, just like most things he’d tried to say recently. What if he made the wrong choice again, after all.

“Remus.” The werewolf blinked up at his leader on the musty couch across from him, not realizing he’d looked down at his feet. “I’ve looked into quite a few avenues and I might have possibly found a way but… it would require you to appeal to the local Vampire King.”

For a moment, he almost thought he’d heard wrong but the Order’s leader was looking straight at him with a particularly solemn expression. That… there was no way he’d be able to walk in there and not be ripped to shreds!

“If we are to have any chance of getting Harry back we must have the backing of their court in the search. You are the only contact in the community that I can trust to accomplish this.”

Oh. Of course. He had to go for Harry. He couldn’t leave the only one of his pack left in the hands of some rogue vampires. They’d never be able to care for him when he inevitably gets sick again.

“Of course, Headmaster.”

He received a pleased smile in response.

* * *

Voldemort impatiently tapped his long nails on the arm of his throne to the side of a bone white wand. Just as always his followers were droning their completions or failures (upon which he meted out appropriate punishment, of course) of their given tasks. It wasn’t enough to distract him from his thoughts about last night, unfortunately. Through the link he somehow shared with the boy, Lord Voldemort had almost been awash within a swirling release of negative emotions strong enough to put the Dark Lord on the floor. For many hours afterwards, the fine tremors in his hands wouldn’t stop no matter how much he dug through and compartmentalized all the information he had received.

And, lo, what a treasure he had been gifted!

Years of abuse and neglect, memories wiped, and actions manipulated. Harry Potter was ripe for a turning and if he could convince the boy to join his cause, Britain would fall within a week. The Ministry was already overtaken, most employees left not in his ranks had submitted and sworn oaths of secrecy. Hogwarts would be easy to take since he knew exactly where the outer ward anchors were located and children made wonderful hostages (even if he’d have to be careful to bring his less  _ unhinged _ followers to avoid unnecessary death).

All Lord Voldemort had to do… was find the boy. Which was apparently much harder than it looked. After the emotional blast the mental door had been slammed shut and was held that way by something other than Potter himself. He could tear it down but a full assault would take too much energy, and though he was slowly working on it, it was taking too long to do it the safer way. He could not risk the Order finding and leashing Potter again, not when he was so delightfully rife with such darkness.

“We’ve been in contact with the courts, my lord. Though, they seemed to be quite reticent; the request has gone through. An audience has been granted for two weeks time with King Havardr at midnight.”

Lord Voldemort returned his attention to the quivering peon in front of him. 

“Crucio.”

He kept it up, the screaming doing nothing good for his introspective mood, for only three seconds before releasing it, slowly lowering his wand back onto the armrest. Though technically completed, he did not have time to wait two weeks for a lead that could possibly lead him nowhere.

“Did I not tell you time was of the essence?”

“Y-Yes, My Lord.” The man said nothing else and Voldemort twitched. With a horribly covered squeak the Death Eater fell back into line.

Honestly, if there was enough time in the day, he would do everything himself for how incompetent they all could be most times.

“Lucius, you best have good news,” he hissed, turning to the next report.

“Of course, My Lord,” the blond murmured. “The contacts my son made in Durmstrang will be here within the week to take the mark and my wife has managed to turn quite a few healers to our cause. They can also be here within the week.”

Finally, some worthy news. Malfoy’s pathetically sniveling son had failed his first task, almost losing him his Potions Master through an idiotic unbreakable vow. So he had reassigned them both to Durmstrang, out of sight but still useful. Narcissa, for her mistake, had also been assigned to recruiting but much closer to home and with far more consequences should she fail. He would not suffer such crucial mistakes again or he would be leaving her in her dear sister’s care for a while. He could not afford the loss of any magical healer he could get his claws into.

Healers swore an oath of neutrality but were required by law to turn in any criminals they healed. There were already a few crooked ones, willing to take bribes to not report anything, but it was not near enough for what he would need in the future. He was not a stupid man and he had noticed that Dumbledore’s hypocritical ‘second chance’ that he preached to his followers had been rescinded recently. If this was going to turn into a bloodbath, he  _ would _ have St. Mungo’s, with the rest of the healers put out of commission until the war ended. The less magical blood spilt the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a review or kudos! :)


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